


other stories

by ghastly



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F, Gen, Harry Potter - Freeform, Humanstuck, Pokemon - Freeform, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghastly/pseuds/ghastly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of rosemary AU drabbles. tags will be added as they come.<br/>one - pokémon AU<br/>two - hogwarts AU<br/>three - exchange student AU<br/>four - humanstuck AU sickfic<br/>five - ballet teacher AU<br/>six - mermaid AU<br/>seven - pirate AU<br/>eight - bad start AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We'll always have Lumiose

**Author's Note:**

> edit (10.05.15) : this is officially closed. i thought about deleting it for a while, but that kinda felt like cheating, so.  
> on another note, the mermaid and the pirate AUs turned out to be my favorite ones.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first up pokémon AU

Your first Pokémon is a Noibat.

She's a sweet little thing, half as tall as you are and twice as gentle, and your father smiles as she nuzzles your hand almost immediately after being released from her Poké Ball. You decide to name her Plum, because she's sweet and purple, and she chirps at you in what you assume is acquiescence when you inform her of this.

This is the complete list of what one girl requires to leave Anistar and take on Kalos:  
\- 1 (one) bat dragon, precious;  
\- 5,000 (five thousand) Pokémon Dollars, spent entirely on clothes;  
\- 3 (three) Potions, all used within half an hour of leaving home;  
\- 5 (five) Poké Balls, none of which managed to capture anything;  
\- 5 (five) Petaya Berries, all eaten ravenously by said bat dragon within fifteen minutes of leaving home;  
\- 2 (two) Escape Ropes, sold at the first Pokémon Center along the way and missed at the first cave along the way;  
\- 3 (three) Repels, all used simultaneously after hearing about hordes of Zubats;  
\- 1 (one) Town Map, inscrutable;  
\- 1 (one) Bicycle, inoperable;  
\- 1 (one) Trainer Card, signed Kanaya Maryam in neat cursive.

You are fifteen by the time you make it back to Anistar, eight badges jingling happily in your pocket and Plum now a proud Noivern with each wing bigger than you are; with the two of you is your second Pokémon, a quiet and dependable Leavanny by the name Silk you traded a Dedenne for. You manage to stay home for almost a full month before the road starts calling for you again, and it's a warm Wednesday morning when you climb on Plum's back and take to the skies.

And this is the abridged story of how you found yourself here, in a brand new region, with absolutely no idea where to go to or how to get there or what 'there' is even supposed to be. Plum, bless her heart, had been flying for hours and is now little more than a snoring lump of uselesness, and while Silk is awake and alert, Silk is also possibly the only living being on this planet with less sense of direction than you, so there's that. The sun is warm overhead, the breeze pleasant as it ruffles the knee-high grass, and it's close enough to some body of water that you can still feel the faint humidity in the air; you can't help but feel the perfect weather is mocking you.

Reduced as your options currently are, you lay back against Plum and enjoy the sun for a while. It's warmer here than it had been back in Anistar, for which you're grateful, and even the colors that surround you seem warmer as well, brighter maybe. Perhaps heading to the shore is the best course of action, as you're bound to come across some sort of human settlement sooner or latter if you keep close to water. It shouldn't be too far, even if you can't hear the sound of the river all that well anymore, because the scent of running water hasn't yet let go of you and you've always trusted your nose far more than your ears anyhow.

A shadow cuts your short-lived reprieve even shorter, and you realize you've had your eyes closed for some time now. Not that you were napping out in the middle of the tall grass or anything similarly ridiculous, mind you, you were just resting your eyes. Getting more in touch with your other senses and stuff. Very commendable.

When you open your eyes, it's to a sharp grin and a set of purple eyes.

You sit up quickly, barely avoiding headbutting her right on the jaw in the process.

"I'm, I mean, I was - that's to say, I, hi. Yes, hi, hello."

"Yes hi hello to you as well."

You narrow your eyes at her. She titters.

"I'm loath to disturb you peace, but I assumed you were lost."

"I am. Lost, that is. Well, obviously, that's all I could be referring to, but that's not really the point."

"The point?"

She looks at you expectantly, but some amusement still clings to the corner of her lips. It's unnerving, to say the least.

"Oh, well, yes, the point was rather... well, how you could tell, really. That I was lost, I mean. I was wondering what it was about me that gave me away. Or it could be that you're very familiarized with this route and its neighboring cities, so any outside element would just catch your eye in a second. Me being the outside element, naturally."

"Naturally", and her voice is very solemn.

"But then again," Plum's wings twitch a bit, "no, wait, that would not necessarily mean I'm lost, would it? I mean, even if you could tell I'm not from around here just based on my appearance, it still wouldn't be enough to assume I was lost."

"Naturally", and her voice is mostly just amused this time around.

"... So?"

"So...?"

You're not easily aggravated, you don't think, but you take a deep breath for good measure.

"So," you begin again, doing your very best to ignore her persistent grinning, "won't you answer me?"

"I was unaware you had posed me a question."

"I'd thought it was quite clearly implicit."

"Clearly implicit?"

You are _not_ easily aggravated, you remind yourself. Really, you're not. You take another deep breath, just to make sure.

"I apologize for not making myself clear before. Would you be so kind as to explain to me how you could tell I was lost?"

She smiles pleasantly at you, as if it'd been you who gave a proper answer to an implicit question. What a weird girl.

"This place is inaccessible."

You must look as confused as you feel, because she titters once again, and you try your very best to not find it cute.

"Other than by train, that is. You just flew yourself to the outskirts of Anville Town, and I believe you're the first person to have ever done so. Congratulations are in order, I suppose."

Anville Town. Well. That's. You have absolutely no idea what that is.

"Why don't you come over to my house? I can offer you a map and a more comfortable place for you Noivern to rest in, if nothing else. My name is Rose, by the way."

"Kanaya." You take the hand she offers you in a bit of a daze, which is probably why you take a second too long to let go of it. Probably. "And yes, of course, that sounds... yes, I'd appreciate that very much. Thank you."

She grins once again, nods, starts walking, stops.

"Oh, and before I forget." She turns to you, smiling properly this time. "Welcome to Unova, Kanaya."

This is the incomplete list of what one girl requires to enter Anville and take on Unova:  
\- 1 (one) bat dragon, still precious;  
\- 1 (one) leaf bug, frilly;  
\- 17 (seventeen) Pokémon Dollars, usefulness debatable;  
\- 8 (eight) Kalos League Badges, usefulness debatable;  
\- 1 (one) instant crush, aggravating;  
\- 1 (one) grinning guide, charming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this is the first of a series of rosemary drabbles i'm working on right now. they're all short, sweet and set in a different AU. my plan is to make about 15 of them, mostly because it's a number i'm fond of, though it might go over that.  
> comments / requests / suggestions?


	2. Kanaya Maryam and the Quest for Hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hogwarts AU yooo

August 31st

Dear Diary  
It Is Currently A Bit After Ten In The Evening And The Weather Is Pleasant  
If By Pleasant One Means Insufferably Warm And Windless Of Course  
I Will Not Deny It Is Kind Of Amazing That The Temperature Can Remain This High Literally Hours After Sunset  
Such Bold Obstinacy Is Truly Something We All Should Aspire To Emulate  
Except Perhaps Karkat  
It Could Be Argued That His Own Obstinacy Surpasses That Of A Thousand Flaming Suns With Laughable Ease  
But I Digress  
The Fact Remains That It Is Currently A Bit After Ten In The Evening  
Which Means I Am But A Few Hours Away From My Sixth Year In Hogwarts  
A Year One Might Refer To As Entirely Different From Its Predecessors  
And Not Only In The Regular Sense In Which Every Year Is Entirely Different From Its Predecessors  
But In The Sense Of A Year In Which Unprecedented Events Will Take Place  
Albeit That Plural Might Be A Bit Too Ambitious For My Arguably More Modest Plans  
But I Can Say With Certainty That One Unprecedented Event Will Take Place This Year At The Very Least  
The Event In Case Being Me Finally Asking Rose Lalonde Whether She Would Like To Go With Me To Hogsmeade  
On A Date That Is  
I Will Ask Rose Lalonde On A Date This Year  
This Is Where The Protagonist Usually Says Something ALong The Lines Of Mark My Words But Considering That Marking Their Own Words Is Precisely How One Goes About Writing A Diary That Seems Rather Frivolous

September 8th

Dear Diary  
I Am Aware That It Has Now Been A Week That I Promised Both You And Myself That I Would Ask Rose Out  
Though Promises Made To Glorified Notebooks Carry Little Weight In Real World Applications  
But Even The First Visit To Hogsmeade Is Weeks Away  
Inviting Her To An Event So Far In The Future Would Have Been Unseemingly At Best And Desperate At Worst  
And Regardless Of Any Remark Vriska Might Have To Make On This Subject I Am In No Way Desperate  
Which Is Precisely Why I Will Wait Until A More Suitable Date In Which To Talk To Her

September 27th

So I Ended Up Not Asking Her  
But I Had A Perfectly Good Reason That Is In No Way An Excuse Thank You Very Much For Your Unsolicited Input Karkat  
I Simply Discovered That She Already Had Plans For Said Weekend Before I Could Have The Chance To Ask Her  
Not That I Had Been Attempting To Gain Such Information Or Anything  
Certainly Not By Eavesdropping On Any Private Conversation Her Brother Might Have Been Having After Hearing Her Name Being Mentioned  
After All It Is Hardly My Fault That Dave Has Such An Easily Recognizable Voice  
Especially Considering How Small The Common Room Is  
Details Of How The Information Fell Into My Hands Are Unimportant At Any Rate  
What Really Is Important Here Is That I Have On Reliable Sources That This Hogsmeade Visit Will Be A Family Affair For The Unfathomable Strider Lalonde Clan  
The Anguished Cries Of Said Strider About Being Heartlessly Used As A Human Shopping Cart By His Own Flesh And Blood Will Be Sure To Lull Many A Hufflepuff To Sleep Tonight  
This Is Merely A Small Delay To My Plans  
Plan  
Singular  
The Next Hogsmeade Weekend Will Doubtlessly Be Preceded By My Asking Her

October 19th

I Would Just Like To Start By Saying That I Can Not Be Held Accountable For Circumstances Beyond Me  
Which Is Not To Say I Am Faulting Tavros For How Things Turned Out Either  
This Result Was Rather A Combination Of Poor Timing On His Part And Distraction On Mine  
Perhaps I Should Start Over  
Both Me And Jade Harley Hold The Top Scores For Herbology In Our Year  
Jade Is Both Exceedingly Clever And Exceedingly Unapproachable  
Unapproachable Here Meaning Literally Impossible To Approach As No One Is Ever Quite Certain Where She Is  
There Are Theories Ranging From Invisibility Capes To Secret Passages She Herself Has Built  
I Myself Believe All Of Them Naturally  
This Was Told Merely To Illustrate The Fact That I Am The Best Trackable Student In Herbology In Our Year  
And So It Was Only Natural For Tavros To Come To Me When He Was Having Problems With This Subject  
And Agreeing To Help Him Without A Second Thought Was Equally Natural For Me  
Without A Second Thought Being The Key Part Of That Sentence  
To Summarize  
Guess Who Will Not Be Going To Hogsmeade This Weekend  
Hint  
It Is Me

November 2nd

Today Was Likely The Worst Day I Have Had All Year  
We Had Been Talking About The Halloween Party And The Costumes Our Friends Chose To Wear  
We In This Case Being Me And Rose  
I Feel Like She Is All I Ever Talk About  
Anyway  
Halloween Costumes  
Particularly John And His Floating Spell That Has Yet To Wear Off  
He Kept Blowing Out The Candles Near The Ceiling Throughout Dinner  
Professor Flitwick Looked Both Impressed And Like He Was Not Payed Enough For This  
I Wondered Aloud Whether He Had Been Sleeping In The Owlery With His Kin  
She Laughed While Fixing Her Scarf  
And Then She Looked At Me And I  
Well  
Panicking Is The Only Word That Comes To Mind  
Running May Have Been Involved  
I Only Became Aware That I Had Fled By The Time The Door To The Common Room Opened Before Me  
I Have Since Accepted My Fate And Have No Plans Of Moving From This Spot Until The Earth Is Kind Enough To Swallow Me Whole  
In The Meatime I Can Not Seem To Define If Karkat Is Looking At Me With Sympathy Or Exasperation  
Probably Both  
Sollux Would Be Proud

November 3rd

Dear Kanaya,  
First and foremost, rest assured I haven't read your diary, regardless of how adamant one Karkat Vantas was that I did so. This is an invasion of privacy I could not condone, let alone implement, even if I will not deny there was a certain curiosity I had to suppress. You know us Slytherins.  
That being said, both the interaction with Mr. Vantas which has caused me to come into possession of your diary and my own observations on the matter have sufficed to clue me in on your current status. There is a great number of things I could say in this situation, as you of all people would know, but I will say only this:  
As long as it's you doing the inviting, my reply will always be yes.  
Love,  
Rose Lalonde

November 5th

Rose Has Cold Hands And An Even Colder Nose  
Rose Also Makes A Point In Being As Obnoxious About Public Displays Of Affection As Possible Whenever Karkat Is Nearby To Teach Him A Lesson On Privacy  
I Might Be In Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second drabble up! hogwarts AU is a classic of any genre, after all  
> reminding everyone that i'm open for requests over at danainae.tumblr.com  
> i'll also post my headcanon for everyone's houses there, if anyone is interested


	3. Fruit Salad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exchange student AU for LunaticAtBest. hope you like it!

"Ah, comment dit-on grenade en anglais?"

"Pomegranate."

"Pomme?"

"Pomegranate."

"Pomme-grenade."

"Granate."

"Pomme-granate."

"Better."

"Condescending."

The conversation then progresses in a silent duel of eyebrows, each minuscule change in their angles attempting to display more contempt than its predecessors. John stares at the two of you with the same expression you've seen him make in Math. After almost a minute she sighs, straightens her back and looks at him with gentle eyes.

"Anyway, that is my preferred fruit, John. What is yours?"

He shakes his head in at her in mild disbelief, mutters something about girls being weird and shuffles off.

"Oh dear. Was it something I said?"

Kanaya Maryam, age 16, born in the sun-kissed Mediterranean and in American soil for three months now. She smiles at you, quick and private as she is wont to be, and you suppress a bubble of laughter threatening to rise in your throat.

"Pomegranates do suit you, I must say. Delicate and peculiar."

"Peculiar as in bizarre?"

"Peculiar as in unusual."

"Mm. I thought you were the unusual one."

"Isn't that a bit of a disingenuous turn of phrase?"

"Dis...?"

"Ah. Hm. Fourbe, parfois?"

"Ah, ça va. Pourq-- That is, why do you say so?"

"Well, should I disagree with you, I would be calling myself common, which I am disinclined to do. If I agree with you, however, I would also be agreeing that I was wrong, which I am equally disinclined to do. A bit of a conundrum, you see."

"It could be that we are both unusual. You are more pomme-granade unusual however."

"How so?"

"All the Perséphone aura. Underworld journey. It is very you, I believe, is it not?"

You do laugh then, unable to help yourself. She blushes very prettily, looking embarrassed.

"Fair is fair. Albeit you might be a better Persephone than I, what with your penchant for gardening."

"But you are the one with a flower for a name."

"That I am. Interesting how it all connects us to one another."

She hides a smile against you shoulder as your fingers find hers on the bench.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kanaya's grammar is heavily french because english grammar makes no sense  
> this ended up kind of short, but i'm quite happy with it still c:  
> still taking requests, in anyone is interested~


	4. Kanaya Maryam’s Guide To Nursing Your Crush Back To Health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> response to an anon request on tumblr! i'm so happy to have a request omg <3  
> also this is all a very vague humanstuck

Step One: Data Gathering

Notice unusual absence of the subject. Engage third parties in dialogue to help identify the cause. Potential third parties include one Dave Strider, subject’s brother (‘yeeeeeeah okay i can see why you’d think asking me was a good idea but we’re not really that kinda siblings Wednesday and Morticia have their own gig this Pugsley flies solo just Pugsley senior and Pugsley junior back home sorry ladybro’), one John Egbert, subject’s childhood friend (‘I don’t really know? Rose just does her own thing a lot, I guess! But I’m sure she’s okay, she’d probably call if it was something bad. Except for that time she turned out to have gallstones, she didn’t really say anything then. Also when she sprained her ankle but didn’t tell anyone and almost made the ligaments tear all the way. Huh’), and one Jade Harley, subject’s childhood friend (‘geez, Kanaya, you’re such a worrywart! You guys are really cute, hehehe. If you’re worried, why don’t you go over? I’m sure she’d appreciate it!’). Deem results insufficient. Engage subject’s mother in nerve-wracking dialogue instead. Symptoms listed include cough and mild fever.

Diagnosis acquired: common flu.

Step Two: Preparation

Research chicken soup recipes. Research easy chicken soup recipes. Research super easy chicken soup recipes. Go to the market to buy ingredients. Find you don’t know how to buy at least half of the ingredients listed. Call Karkat and inquire how to buy carrots (‘OKAY HOW THE ACTUAL FUCK DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO BUY GODDAMN CARROTS KANAYA WHEN I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER YOU GOING THROUGH THAT VEGAN PHASE AND MAKING ME EAT THOSE FUCKING SOY BURGERS THAT TASTED LIKE ROTTING FEET’). Wait for him when he decides you cannot be trusted with this task and he will just have to do it himself. Give him you shopping list and money. Watch him aggressively pick vegetables. Watch him aggressively take your bags home. Watch him aggressively make the soup from scratch. Make some ginger tea to take along with you while he works. Thank him profusely and offer him some chocolate in payment (‘YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT I WANT SOME FUCKING CHOCOLATE MY NAILS SMELL LIKE GINGER’). Place some soup in a thermos. Place some tea in another thermos. Take a jacket with you.

Step Three: Setting Up The Workplace

Arrive at subject’s door with two liquid-filled thermoses making your bag strap cut into your shoulder. Hesitate before knocking. Hesitate before ringing bell. Go with knocking. Regret it immediately. Be greeted by subject’s mother, who seems at once utterly impassive and utterly amused. Be directed to subject’s room. Stutter your way through an explanation containing the words ‘soup’ and ‘tea’, as well as various gestures towards your bag. Be redirected to the kitchen. Ask about mugs and bowls location. Turn around to find subject’s mother has already vacated the premisses. Panic slightly.

Thorough search through pantries reveals both mugs and bowls on the cabinet directly next to the oven. Pick one mug (white, plain) and one bowl (white, plain). Notice kitchen is equally white and plain. Wonder whether there is any color at all in this house. Serve both the tea and the soup. Make your way to subject’s room. Notice belatedly you have no way of opening the door with both hands occupied. Panic some more.

Poorly balance both the bowl and mug in one arm while knocking on the door with your spare hand. Knock one, two, three times. Strain ears to hear a faint, hoarse ‘yes?’. Open the door. Feel wind knocked out of you by sight of subject without makeup and wearing pajamas. Feel wind further knocked out of you by subject’s pleased, surprised little smile. Close door behind you.

Step Four: Nursing

Give subject the tea. Bravely cling onto bowl as to not drop it when her fingers brush yours. Ignore heating of the back of your neck when she asks you whether you plan to feed her the soup. Notice her room isn’t white and plain. Feel slightly more at ease. Accept suggestion of watching a movie (‘I’m fairly certain Grave of the Fireflies won’t be detrimental to my fragile health, Kanaya’). Cry a lot. Notice subject also crying a lot. Hold hands throughout the rest of the movie. When subject’s mother walks you out and says she hopes you’ll come by more often, smile and agree.

Step Five (Optional): Next Morning

Wake up feeling like your throat was replaced by sandpaper. Attempt leaving the bed. Fail. Call your mother. Hear her tsk when she takes your temperature. Hear her calling the school. Fall back asleep. Wake up an indefinite amount of time later when a cold cloth is pressed against your forehead. Open eyes dazedly. Find subject sitting at the foot of the bed.

'Hello.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes kanaya being a tea fan is a very solid headcanon of mine


	5. Bras bas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> student/teacher AU for LunaticAtBest!  
> sorry it took me a while, my health has been kind of eeh

You feel silly in a leotard and pantyhose, too much like a child playing dress up and too little like an adult doing something for herself. Your hair was too short to tie back and you feel inadequate in the middle of several other students with perfectly tied hair and perfectly straight backs. Maybe this was a mistake all along, you can't help but think, maybe there was a reason you never got into ballet when the other little girls on your classroom did, maybe it was divine providence that made you miss your window.

The teacher isn't here yet. There is theoratically enough time to sneak out without much of a fuss, slink away quietly and never return to this place or speak of this to anyone. You inch closer to the door, almost by accident. Vriska will probably laugh and say she always knew you didn't have it in you. The thought is not quite enough to sway you, but it is enough to make you stop and weigh your options.

You weigh your options slightly too long, though, if the way the floor creaks beside you is any indication.

She stands in the middle of the room and she's... well, she's tiny, really. Most people are when compared to you, taller than your father by the age of sixteen, but she's objetively tiny, barely five feet tall with her back ramrod straight and chin held high. But she stands smiling in the middle of the room, and the whole class falls silent, and she suddenly seems impossibly large.

Introductions are painful, unsurprisingly. She says her name is Rose, just Rose, and the lack of a surname might seem like an invitation to familiarity but it also kind of enforces distancing in the way it seems to give more information about her than it actually does. You're not sure whether or not this is on purpose, but the way she doesn't stumble on the pronounciation when repeting your name, consonants firm and vowels open, suggests she knows her way around words.

Stretching is equally painful seriously oh god how do people do this you can barely reach the middle of your calves and already your legs feel like they're on fire why are you so sedentary oh god oh man why did you think you could do this. You jump when a hand touches your arched back, cold against your spine through the too thin lycra, and you must look something like a very tall deer right now, all wide eyes and skittish behavior.

"You know, stretching is in many aspects an exercise in patience. Not to question the merit of your dedication, but I would rather not see you injured before the beginning of our very first class."

She isn't exactly laughing at you, she's hardly smiling at all, but the amusement is so thick in her voice you're halfway convinced you can see it somewhere on her face. Which is to say you're staring really rather blatantly. Your mother would be appalled. Rose does laugh then, just a quick shake of shoulders and lips firmly closed, but you already feel more justified in any case.

"I only meant by this that it does get easier, though I admittedly could have chosen a more candid phrasing."

"I know what you meant." Your manners are just getting worse and worse wow what are you even doing. "I mean, I understood. What you said, that is, I understood the meaning, I was just a bit startled that you were talking at all. Not to imply aything about your communicative skills or teaching abilities or anything on that line, please, you in fact look very well-spoken, and I'm certain you're a terrific teacher, I was only--"

"Kanaya." She interrupts you not unkindly, taking one of the hands you were using to gesticulate wildly and squeezing it briefly.

"Yes?"

"You're rambling."

"... Ah. I am." You really are. "I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright, it's only that we do have a schedule to follow. But don't worry, you can always go back to praising me in solid blocks of text later." She laughs that quick, silent laugh again, and leaves you spluttering alone as she corrects other students' postures.

The class itself is more or less uneventful. You learn where to place your arms and how to place your feet, the first of which you won't remember and the second of which you were completely unable to do, and at one point you lean back against the bars to watch and tear your pantyhose a bit on a loose screw, but overall you feel it could have been much worse. Probably. You take your time getting ready to leave, which is kind of remarkable in and of itself considering all you really have to do is switch shoes, and then it's all kinds of awkward because you're not really sure why you stayed behind to start with and now it's just you and Rose and you have no idea what you're doing.

"So, I... I'll see you next week?"

It sounds considerably more like a question than it had in your head. She looks up at you from where she's packing her bag and stops, smiles, nods.

"Certainly. Although... if you're not in a hurry, would you care to join me for coffee? I usually meet up with a couple of friends, but they're out of town for the week."

"Oh. I-- sure. Yes, that sounds great. Thank you."

When you finally get home, hours enough later to be greeted with a raised eyebrow by your roommate, you still don't have Rose's full name, but you do have her number, so you're not complaining, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went with dance teacher because age gaps make me kinda uncomfortable, i hope that's okay!  
> just reminding everyone that requests are always open~


	6. Into the Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mermaids are fun

Life by the sea is quiet. There's salt on your skin and on your lungs, the sound of the waves so constant on your eardrums your head rings hollow whenever you leave home. The sand keeps your feet smooth and your calves strong, and the breeze makes your skin cold and your lips rough. Your garden, much like yourself, endures the cold so long as there's at least a sliver of sunlight to bask in during the afternoons. Every once in a while, you will go into town with a basket full of the vegetables you grow and come home with a basket full of bread and twine.

Or, alternatively: through the woods, by the sea, there lies a house of stone and ivy, where a witch is said to live. That witch is you.

(You aren't a witch, it bears saying, but you are exactly what someone would picture of a witch.)

You sometimes play at scavenging on your small stretch of sand and stone when the tide is low, seashell shards and dead starfishes you thread to hang on the kitchen window. The woods are arguably better for scavenging, if only for the fact that there's more to be found there, but at the beach you'll sometimes catch glimpses of sea turtles and what you're quite certain was a whale that one time, and it's this constant possibility of something out of ordinary that tips the scale in favor of the ocean for you.

This pays off on an overcast Thursday, when you go scavenging and find a girl.

Well, not a girl, technically. Or maybe yes? You are not certain on the terminology here. She looks enough like a girl up until the curve of her waist, where the skin fades into shimmering scales covering what is undeniably a tail. Although... well, on closer inspection, even from the waist up she doesn't really look human, though the differences are more subtle than the several feet of opalescent plates her lower body presents (the skin is white and thin, too thin, even the heart faintly visible beating soft against the ribcage; slits on the sides of her neck, six in total; webbing between her fingers almost up the the second knuckle, paper-thin and silvery).

Your dress catches at the heel of your shoes when you sit on your haunches next to her. She doesn't appear to be wounded, though there's every possibility you're wrong considering you don't know the first thing about mermaids (because that's a mermaid, an actual living breathing mermaid inches away from your legs oh god). Should you check for a pulse? Do mermaids have a pulse? Wait those are stupid questions you can literally see her heart beating. Maybe check if she's breathing then? But should you check the gills or the nose? Gills don't really work outside of the water, you don't think, but if she's unconscious maybe she isn't aware that she's in dry land... but then again, breathing is involuntary, right? So if she has an actual functioning nose, her body should be making it do the breathing by sensing the environment or something. Right? It'd be a really stupid system if it required her to be awake to do the transition.

Her eyes snap open suddenly. You clutch your hand back to your chest, composed enough not to jump back in fright. Barely. She blinks once, twice, breathes very deeply, looks at you. No, that's an imprecise term; she analyzes you, quick and sharp, dark eyes going from your face to your hands to the folds of your dress. Should you make yourself look non threatening? Or should you try and look less like an easy prey? No, wait, that's for wolves. Wolves? Bears? Predators. Definitely predators. Mermaids are predators, technically, but she's not in her environment, so maybe it doesn't count?

You lower your hands slowly, keeping your eyes on hers. No adverse reaction so far: you count that as a win for your judgement. She sits up a bit, leaning heavily on her forearms. Her hair clings wetly to her skin and scales, opalescent as her tail and almost as long.

"Um."

Kanaya Maryam, interspecies communication expert. She doesn't react at all. You don't know whether that's a good or a bad thing.

"Hi."

She blinks at that, not her outer (human-like) lids, but a see-through membrane beneath those that slides closed and open in a swift, horizontal movement.

"I am not going to hurt you. I just want to help." No reaction again. "Not that I would want to presume that you need any assistance, most of all from me, but the situation seemed to suggest that it could be the case. Maybe I should have started with that, I'm sorry. What I wanted to say was that I am willing to help you, should you so require. So. Yes."

She is silent for a heartbeat, two, three, and then she laughs. It doesn't feel mocking, her body curving forward and one of her sand-covered hands going up to cover her mouth, but you still feel your face heating up. It dies down quickly enough, but some of her smile clings to her face as she looks back at you.

"I don't think I've ever heard someone apologize for offering help before."

Noticing she's really very pretty could make things very awkward. Fortunately for you, 'awkward' seems to already be the central theme of your whole existence. And besides, aren't mermaids supposed to be pretty anyway? That's definitely one of the central points of the whole mythos, you think. If anything, you're being mythologically redundant.

"If you would be so kind as to carry me back into the water, however, I'd be very happy to accept your help."

Oh. Well that does make a lot of sense, of course. She giggles at you some more; you might have said that out loud. You reach one arm under her tail, about halfway through, and place the other arm on her back to support her frame. She wraps her own arms around your neck, trying to help balance out the weight. It's still tricky at best, because she's much heavier than she looks and her scales make her tail slippery, but once you manage to get your feet firm under you it feels like the worst is gone. You walk until the water reaches your knees, regretting instantly not removing your shoes or tying your skirt up beforehand, honestly, Kanaya, you can't be this distracted by every pretty girl you meet you useless lesbian. She sinks gently once you lower her, possibly attempting to not get your clothes any wetter than they already are, and smiles pretty at you.

"You are very kind."

"Kanaya."

She blinks, outer lids this time, maybe amused. It's hard to tell.

"That's my name," you clarify. "Kanaya. I though I should tell you."

"Ah. You are very kind, Kanaya."

"Do you have one? A name, I mean."

"I have plenty of names."

Amused, definitely.

"Could you tell me one of them?"

"I could."

You glare a little. She laughs.

"I apologize, that was uncalled for. How about... Rose? You smell of flowers somewhat, I think you'd like it."

"Rose. Yes, it's..." Pretty. Fitting. Charming. "... nice. To meet you, that is. Rose. It's nice to meet you."

She smiles again, turns around, disappears between the waves as quick as anything. You get home, place your shoes by the window, hang your dress to dry. You garden, you bathe, you eat. At night, with your skin free of sand and your body warm against the bed, you fall asleep with the thought that mermaids can't be real after all, and maybe you have been spending way too much time on your own.

In the morning, when the fog is still thick and the sun is barely tinting the sky a pale lilac, you climb down the stairs to your house to find a single scale, half as big as your palm and sparkling like mother of pearl, placed gingerly atop a rock where the water meets the sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mermaid rose has long hair because mermaids and long hair yeah  
> also wow it's been ages hi everyone!


	7. Setting Suns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pirate au for ANannyMouse

Had someone asked you what your motivation was, gold was probably the best answer.

Not in a greedy way, it bears saying, you are just very fond of gold. Of shiny things in general, really, but gold is a rather big soft spot, solid sunlight and tangible summer (your mother used to call you magpie as a child, the house covered in metal trinkets and glass shards and oddly shaped pearls; you can't say your mother would have approved of your career choice, no mother would, but you can't say she would have been terribly surprised either).

Because the sea is freedom; any pirate will say as much, and they'll all be right, that's what it all boils down to. There are bad days, really bad days, days with no food and no water and no wind that will make some wish for death and some think it's already come; but they make the good days even better once those come around, make you feel like you've earned them. Your captain will shoot that crooked little grin at you, always seeming to know exactly what you're thinking, and you'll feel you've earned that too.

Your captain. You've met your share of captains by now, usually in less than civil situations, and you've come to understand a good captain as one whose crew is loyal - charisma is a necessary trait for any sort of leader, really, and one in charge of a group of highly dangerous people perpetually stuck in close quarters requires a considerable amount of it. Now, you can't really speak for all of the crew (well, you _can_ , as in you're able to, because you've talked about this more than just a few times and you know where most of them stand, but you won't), but as far as you're concerned, your captain passes the test with flying colors.

She's... this is hard, talking about her, because you have flowery words from the etiquette classes you took way back in another life, but flowery words don't feel right to describe, ring hollow and pointless to your ears. Whiplash is probably a good word for this, for the way she'll take on the ocean - the land, the people, the world, anything - like it was nothing, chapped lips grinning and chin held high. Pride, maybe? Admiration could work too, but admiration comes with a notion of distance that isn't really appliable here. Pride does work better, but both describe you, not her.

In the end, the only word you really can use is gold. Figures.

Gold like her skin, uneven gold, bestowed by the sun and the salt and the wind; gold like her hair, soft molten gold that curls around her ears and her neck and the tips of your fingers; like her eyelashes, her chapped lips, the three freckles on her left shoulder. Gold like the sheets of her bed when the setting sun hits them.

And had someone asked you what your motivation was, gold was probably the best answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so absurdly long my health has been absolute crap  
> this was short but i actually kind of really liked writing it? i might add onto it later hm


	8. spring children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which their first encounter doesn't go well. prompt by a very sweet friend <3

The very first words Rose Lalonde says to you are 'oh, it's you again', which sounds a lot more paradoxal than it really is.

It's a bright Monday morning at the flower shop, and it's your first day on the job. Places you have thrown up on - because your stomach gets queasy with nerves - include the bathroom at the back of the store (once), the small trash bin under the counter (twice, but you do wash it afterwards both times), and a lovely vase of pink petunias (also twice, mostly because after the first time you assumed the point was rather moot). You couldn't find the gloves you were supposed to wear and you were too nervous to ask about them, so now there's blood under your fingernails from trying to remove a thorn you got into your palm while pruning a bougainvillea bare-handed. There's also blood on your socks (the cute lacy ones too, because you wanted to look cute on the first day) from where you rammed your shin into a trolley that you had put there yourself.

In short: you've been working for three hours on a slow shift and you're already borderline dehydrated and half covered in your own blood.

So when your boss, that beautiful angel of kindness that he is, tells you to 'go get something to eat, Miss Maryam, maybe get that cut looked at too', the only thing that stops you from running like a wild beast towards the nice little cafeteria at the corner is your natural poise and gravitas.

You're also limping from your wound, but that's neither here nor there.

You still leave the shop somewhat more... impetuously, perhaps, than you'd usually go about things, which is probably why you don't notice there's someone at the other side of the door you slam open with total abandon. Someone with coffee, incidentally, four tall paper cups in one of those neat little takeout things for beverages (you think they might be made of cardboard? Maybe? They look papier-mâché-ish but that would be stupid). Most of it falls to the floor, which is bad, but the rest falls on the girl's hands and feet, which is very much worse because she hisses and curses very very softly. You apologize effusively, mostly through frantic hand gestures that only succeed in getting the specs of dirt in your fingers to decorate her coffee-stained self; she smiles tight, nods, sidesteps you, continues on her way - all so quick and sharp and mechanic it makes you feel even less coordinated by proxis.

Karkat sighs very deeply at you when you call him from the cafeteria, but he does listen to all your whining with some comments that might be considered encouraging under certain criteria. He also reminds you several times that if you're actually feeling too overwhelmed he can come get you and help you look for a new job, because he's an actual sweet little marshmallow deep down. You reply that you can probably do this about seven times while you wash out all the blood and dirt in the tiny bathroom sink of the cafeteria - and for future reference do not attempt to wash your leg in a tiny bathroom sink just don't do it it's not worth it - and you only get him to hang up after you promise to call him if things get too rough. He's a good friend.

The wound on your leg is bleeding again after your sorry attempt at cleaning it, so you wrap a wad of paper towels around it to try and stop your socks from getting even bloodier (seriously, those were your favorite socks, how do you even get blood out of lace) and valiantly make your way to the counter while pretending you don't have the world's saddest faux-plaster slipping down your shin. The cashier, a short girl with vaguely familiar light hair, looks up from the register with a polite smile, only to have it slip away once she sees you.

"Oh," she says, and her voice is vaguely familiar too, "it's you again."

And then it hits you.

Coffee girl.

Oh.

Should you apologize again? You are still very much sorry, and it might be in good taste, but then again maybe not, because it'll just be reminding her of what happened and getting scalding coffee on your person is not exactly a pleasant memory. Although does it really count as reminding her when it happened ten minutes ago at most? She clearly still remembers it, remembers you, and oh god you barely even started work and you're already disliked by the staff of the nearest food place. Should you leave? Would your boss mind if you started ordering food in? Is that even the kind of thing one should ask on their first day? Can that get you fired? Oh but being fired before you even finish a shift is just so cruel, he didn't seem like a cruel man, maybe it's more of a three strikes situation.

"I'll admit it's impressive how you manage to be as disruptive in your lack of action as you were in your action."

You startle, notice you're holding up the line, choke out something akin to an apology. She doesn't even blink. You were not aware it was possible to communicate this much contempt without moving a single muscle. She continues to stare you down unwaveringly. You order a turkey club and a lemonade. There may have been shouting involved. She doesn't sigh, not outwardly, but somehow you can still feel the sigh emanating from her very soul as she rings you up.

The punchline here is that you don't even like turkey, it was just the first thing your brain came up with and by the way wow ok brain not cool. You could maybe take it back to the store and see if anyone wants it? And then starve to death, which is okay, since you were already planning on burying yourself alive to never have to face another human being again lest you become a singularity of awkwardness so dense the whole world might collapse in on itself. Or something. It'd certainly be a favor you'd be doing coffee girl - arguably the first good thing you'd be doing for coffee girl at all. You attempt to look at her subtly in a way that's probably not subtle at all in reality and decide she's kinda pretty, maybe, if you're into the whole 'if looks could kill my body count would be in the thousands' vibe. Which you are, obviously, because even your subconscious is traitorous and probably stupid. She catches you looking and arches one eyebrow, hip supporting her weight against the counter, before rolling her eyes and going to find something to do out of your field of vision.

Welp, at least now you can add 'instant unrequited crush' to the list of unfortunate events taking place on your new job. Maybe you should make a bingo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trivia: the title is actually a pun on bougainvillea because they're called 'primavera' (meaning spring) in brazil.  
> i think i might continue this when i have enough time, what do you think?

**Author's Note:**

> this is a series of short rosemary AU drabbles i'm working on  
> i'm taking requests, if anyone is interested!  
> you can send them to me via tumblr (http://taigemei.tumblr.com/) or here, though you're likely to get a quicker reply there.


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